The Devil's On Your Back
by I'm a Dumbadosis
Summary: Brittany gets a job at the Lopez Mansion as a maid, but with a hidden motive. Meanwhile, Santana's growing interest in her new maid increasingly distracts Brittany from the task at hand.
1. Prologue

_The good guys always win, at least that's what they say in movies- the good guy always wins. She couldn't think of a single movie where that wasn't the case, and even if it was, they always came back and saved the day. Meanwhile, the bad guys rotted in jail. They suffered the consequences, suffered for choosing to do horrible things to good people. _

_That's how it should be. _

_At this point, Hollywood couldn't be more wrong._

* * *

"...And while I'm sure you have excellent dog pee mopping and cabinet-dusting skills, we really have no use for someone who might crumble from exhaustion from just picking up a broom. And, I'm positive my own abuela is younger than you. So, no thanks granny. Next!"

Puck stared blankly at Santana, who was too busy waving her hand in dismissal at the frazzled, fragile-looking old lady to notice her comment had rendered him momentarily speechless.

Only when they were once again alone in the room did he turn to her in complete frustration, "Really?!"

Santana ignored him for a moment, crumpling up a piece of paper and tossing it in a nearby trash bin. She was aware of her cousin's growing aggravation, but work was work. The task at hand was a big one and she refused to slack off.

"Yes, idiot. Did you honestly think that mummy would have survived a day in this mansion? We need someone young, someone with stamina. Someone who isn't halfway to their deathbed."

Puck rolled his eyes, "Yes, and I agree. But you're giving our family a bad name by continuing to disrespect some of these people."

She scoffed and gave him a bewildered look, "This coming from you? Need I remind you of three nights ago when I found you fucking someone half your age in a public bathroom?" This was actually the fifth time she had brought that particular incident up today.

Puck pursed his lips in silent admission.

"Riddle me this; how is it that it's totally acceptable for you to go around doing shit like that, yet when I open my mouth to state the truth it's 'improper'? I'm not about to let this house succumb to double standards and hypocrisy, again, after all these years. So shut the fuck up."

Puck let out a long, loathing sigh, "Alright, _feminazi_. I get it, you rule this house? Fucking great." He stood up, defeated, and made to call in the last interviewee.

Santana hated her cousin, she really did. But it was her luck that she got stuck with him for the day, going through the applicants, carefully questioning and analyzing each individual. He was nothing but a pain in the ass. She was practically doing the entire workload while he sat by her side and threw the occasional 'you would totally rock that uniform' comment at them.

One would assume finding a maid would be a piece of cake, but Santana couldn't disagree more. The applicants had either been too old, couldn't speak English, or were just plain unworthy. Their last maid had a stroke mid-job. It started a chain reaction throughout her family, up to her dad who demanded any maid in the mansion over the age of 50 be fired immediately. The thought of him being responsible for another death freaked him out, and threatened his squeaky clean reputation.

Now Santana was stuck finding the last of five new maids after her aunt refused to take up on the job herself.

It was almost 9pm, and she was increasingly growing more impatient and uncomfortable by the minute. After sitting in the hard wooden chair all day, her back was so sore she could barely stand it anymore. Plus, it didn't help that her dress was fucking tight to the point of suffocation.

She finally saw Puck reemerge from the door with an odd expression.

"We have one more left."

"Thank the lord." The faster she turned them down, the better.

He returned to his chair and shuffled through his files; the stack of paper he never bothered to look over. "A little heads-up; she's different from the rest."

"How so?" Her question was left unanswered.

The door opened slightly and Santana could make out a head of blonde hair poking its way through the door.

"We don't have all day." Puck called out annoyingly.

The person on the other side still seemed hesitant. But, finally, the young woman emerged, entering timidly, from her safe haven behind the door.

Santana inhaled sharply. She faltered for a second, completely lost at the sight before her; a young, tall, leggy blonde woman. She was a few inches taller than Santana, with a strong, lithe body that Santana was immediately drawn to. Her eyes traveled up to sapphire ones, noticing the fear in them, but not caring much because _holy crap!_

This woman, based on looks alone, was the last person she expected to apply for a job as a maid. But at the same time, she was exactly what Santana was looking for.

The blonde, who was wearing a black blazer and a mini skirt that barely reached halfway down her creamy thighs, stepped before them, hands secure behind her back. "Hi. I'm Brittany."

"Hello, Brittany." Puck said in a voice entirely too inappropriate for the job at hand. Then again, they had left 'appropriate' by the door at the start of the interview process.

Completely disregarding Brittany, Santana leaned towards Puck and whispered "_This_ is what I'm talking about." He nodded in agreement.

Santana knew ten minutes from now she would berate herself for making such a lewd comment in with the other woman present, but she couldn't help herself. She was too ecstatic at the prospect of finally having the maid of her dreams. Someone who she was positive wouldn't give out on them like the last one. The woman was hot, young, and strong. Seemingly, at least.

_Okay, Lopez. Quit making assumptions; back to work._

She cleared her throat and scanned the paper on the desk. "So, Miss Brittany Susan Pierce, tell us a little about yourself. Who are you, where are you from, what are your credentials?"

Brittany visibly gulped and quickly looked away from Puck and Santana's scrutinizing gazes. Here eyes were now focused on a spot behind their heads as she spoke. "Uh, I'm, um...I'm from nearby. I live a few metres- miles, sorry." She laughs nervously. "I live a few miles away. In a house. Uh, with my cousins and parents. Actually, wait, I'm sorry, just my parents." Santana narrowed her eyes and glanced uncomfortably at an equally baffled Puck, "My cousins don't live with me anymore, I mean, they do, but- ugh, can I start over?" She was now rubbing her forehead in embarrassment and Santana found it a bit adorable.

"Take a deep breath and start over." She assured the young woman, mindful of how stressful these interviews could be. While Brittany gathered herself, Santana jotted down some notes. She looked up when she heard the blonde's voice; "I'm Brittany, not to be confused with the Disney star. I live with my parents in Parkview. I have two cats and I love dancing." At the end of her small speech, she nodded briefly and smiled, as if getting that one sentence out coherently was an accomplishment in itself for her. "I really would love to have this job because I love to clean."

Santana had heard that one a million times. She was smart enough to know it was a lie every single time. No one _loves_ to clean. Except if you're Monica Geller, but there's a reason why she's a fictional character.

"What are your strengths?" Puck asked. He was playing with his pen, clicking it rapidly, a habit of his that had always annoyed the hell out of Santana.

"Like I said, I love dancing." Santana could tell that with each passing moment, the blonde was gaining confidence; her smiles were getting wider and her words were less jumbled. "I love interacting with people. It's like second nature to me," Brittany shrugged.

"You realize the only thing you'll be interacting with most of the time is a bucket of water and a broom, right?" Puck chastised. Santana elbowed him swiftly, "Ow."

"Ignore him." Santana stated bitterly. But Brittany seemed to be doing the opposite. She was clearly panicking; going over what she said, backtracking herself. "Brittany."

Brittany's frantic eyes flickered up to the brunette at the sound of her soothing voice.

"Relax. You're doing fine." Refusing to lose eye contact until the blonde looked more relaxed, Santana continued, "Tell us about your experience. Are you in college? Any current part time jobs?"

"I'm unemployed and temporarily out of school." Brittany began quietly, "I know you may not like the sound of that, but I dropped out of college during my second year."

Brittany deflated at the accusation in Santana's voice, nervously looking down at her hands before looking back up at Santana,"We were going through some rough patches, and I had to take care of my little cousins who were still too young for school." She bit her lips and cleared her throat, a new surge of confidence running through her, "I don't regret it, if that's what you're thinking. My family comes before my education, always."

There was a shift in Brittany's tone when she spoke of her family; it became more challenging. Puck snickered at this sudden change and Santana could feel his eyes on her, awaiting one of her trademark snide remarks, but none came.

She was too preoccupied to care though. Her dark orbs were now locked in a silent battle with piercing blue ones. Chills ran down her spine and incidentally, it was Santana who involuntarily recoiled from the stare. Her cheeks began to flush. She quickly changed the subject to minimize the embarrassment and discomfort she was now feeling as a result of the interaction. She looked down at her board, "Motivation."

"Hm?"

Santana glanced up, avoiding eye-contact this time, "What is your motive?"

Her mouth fell open slightly, and her previously confident look turned fearful, "I don't have any motives...I-I just want the job. The money." She winced at the last statement.

It's never a good thing to bring up the money in an interview.

"What is wrong with you?" Puck chuckled at Brittany.

"Shut up." Santana hissed. The one time he chose to voice his opinion just had to be with the one person she actually thought they had a good shot with. "When I say motives, I'm just asking what's motivating you to apply for this position? What do you seek to gain from this job? And why should we hire you instead of the fifty other applicants we interviewed today?"

"Well, she already said she wants the money..." Puck whispered mockingly under his breath. She kicks his leg. "Jesus!"

A look of realization fell over Brittany's face, and Santana could almost read her thoughts. The blonde was probably mentally scolding herself. For what, Santana had no clue. She wondered what could have brought that fear into those pretty eyes.

"Oh, right. I'm sorry." Santana had to bite her tongue to stop herself from reassuring the blond once again. She didn't know why she kept doing it anyway. It was not in her nature to help people out. "My motivation? Um..." Blue eyes flickered across the room, searching for an answer, "To...to get to know...more people...?"

Santana's heart dropped in disappointment, though she managed to conceal it. With Santana at a rare loss for words, Puck spoke up, "Alright, Blondie. Thanks a lot. You can head out now." He sat up from his slumped position on the chair and nodded towards the door.

Santana and Brittany gaped at him. Brittany seemed like she was on the verge of tears. "What is your problem?" Santana nearly shrieks.

"What?!" Puck yelled back with just as much rage, "She isn't fit for the job! She doesn't have any real experience, and it's obvious she has no idea what she's doing!"

"Just who the hell do you think you are? You can't just kick her out! Do I have to remind you it's my decision who to accept or not? You have no right to do this without my consent!" She was up out of her seat before she knew it.

He followed her right away, a fire burning in his eyes, "Of course, everything is _your _decision! If you took your head out of your ass for just one second, you'd realize your decisions were pretty fucking shitty! Half the people before her were excellent for this and yet you seem to only be interested in the least fit!"

"For Christ's sake, idiot! This isn't fucking rocket science, we're finding a suitable maid, not America's next top chef!"

"She's going to fuck things over—just like the other maids!"

"No, she _isn't_. God, what sort of crime did I commit in my previous life to deserve a fuck up like you for a cousin?"

"I don't know, you tell me! You're the smart-ass with all these brilliant decisions!"

Santana groaned loudly, throwing her head back in exasperation.

It took her a few seconds to realize they were no longer accompanied by a third party. She stood up quickly, eyes scanning the large room, hoping Brittany was lingering in the shadows somewhere.

"What the fuck, Puck! What did you do?!" She hissed at Puck, who only now realized someone was missing.

She vaguely heard him yell out "Me?" before she found herself running out the door and down the large hall, searching for blonde hair. Her eyes scanned the long, winding staircase leading towards the magnificent double doors. Even with the distance between them, Santana could make out the jet of tears streaming past Brittany as the blonde dashed out the opening doors. It pained her- knowing it was their selfishness that had caused her tears.

But before Brittany made it out completely, Santana called out in a desperate attempt, "I'm sorry! We'll call you!"

With no apparent response from the blonde, she fell back on her heels in defeat.

"What the fuck just happened?" She heard Puck voice her thoughts as he walked up to her, nonchalantly. As though he didn't just ruin some innocent woman's day and, perhaps, life.

"If you ever want to see the light of day again, I advise you to steer clear of me." Her voice was less threatening than she intended, but she was fucking tired and extremely overwhelmed to care.

Puck's ability to completely miss the point of half the things she said never failed to impress her. "You know," he began and she closed her eyes, "I'd rather her not be our maid, but..." She heard him chewing on something that sounded like chips, "It's honestly a win-win situation for me. If she's in, fine, whatever. She's hot, I could probably hit it. I'll have fun with her, you know? If she's out? Then I'm right. And I like being right. So, it's your decision, _boss_."

Her blood boiled when she felt the light touch of a wrapper being tossed at her feet.

* * *

**A/N: So I've been working on this story for a looooonnngg time. I have a couple of chapters already done and ready, so based on the responses to this prologue I'll go ahead and add them up in a week or so. **

**Feedback greatly appreciated!**

**Thanks to my beta, I couldn't have done this without you!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thank you so much for all the feedback! You're all the freaking best. Here's chapter 2 as promised. And yes, there is a certain thing I'm keeping underwraps for later ;) Once again, I thank by beta!**

* * *

The unpleasant side effects that followed her three-hour long run hit Brittany as soon as she neared the driveway. Her body and chest burned and her legs felt weak. She hadn't gone for a run like that in weeks, and now she was suffering the consequences.

But she would do it all over again if it meant avoiding her frustrating older cousin.

Unfortunately, the sun had begun to set and since she didn't want Sam to start worrying, Brittany hastily made her way into the one-story home.

She heard Stevie and Stacey's shrill voices sounding through the screen door. From the sound of it, Brittany guessed they were begging for the macaroni and cheese Sam had promised them earlier.

He confirmed her suspicions, "Guys, chill. The water is still boiling. Stacey, stop playing with that knife."

"Hurry!" The little girl whined.

Brittany walked in to see Sam standing over the stove, spoon in hand, glaring at his little brother and sister. His eyes locked with Brittany's. "Stevie, grab two bowls from the dish rack."

As Stevie made a mad dash in the direction of the sink, Brittany swooped in swiftly and grabbed him around his tiny waist. She lifted him off his feet and spun his frame in circles , "I gotcha!" She boasted.

He giggled uncontrollably, "Brittany! Stop that!"

"What's the magic word?" She teased. Her grip around his tummy tightened slightly.

"Please!" Stacey called out from her place on the stool.

"Nope..." Brittany stole a glance at Sam, happy to find him smiling a little.

The little boy in her arms was still pondering, "Uh...is it unicorn?"

Brittany grinned in delight, "You got it, punk." She dropped him carefully back on the floor, but not before messing up his shaggy blonde hair. Stevie dashed for the bowl cabinet, but found that they were slightly out of his reach, so Brittany stepped in to help.

When she straightened up, Brittany's eyes drifted towards her older cousin, who was almost done splitting the macaroni and cheese between his brother and sister. Sam looked up at her again; and with his somber expression between them, it was obvious he wanted to talk.

The two adults moved into the living room. "Did you hear back from them about the job yet?" He asked immediately. Brittany was focused on the children across the hall, mostly because she found any eye contact with Sam uncomfortable recently.

"No." She replied, a huge cloud of guilt over her head.

Brittany knew she had blown the interview. That guy, Puck, had made it pretty clear. She had fumbled over her words, didn't make any sense- she even bolted out of the room without saying goodbye! Plus, she had no previous work experience that could help prepare her for the job, at least in their eyes. It was a total disaster; one huge mess she just wanted to forget about...if only Sam didn't have to bring it up every half hour...

Two days ago, immediately after she returned from the interview, Sam had bombarded her with questions about how it all went. Afraid he would get mad and blow up on her, she lied and said it went well. She was stupid enough to even say, "I nailed it".

She knew how much her getting a job at this mansion meant to Sam. To their family. Everything he had worked for came down to a single phone call.

And she destroyed it.

His voice came through, "Have you told your parents yet?"

She blinked and shook her head, "I haven't seen them since yesterday morning." Her dad worked at a shoe factory almost all hours of the day. Her mother, on the other hand, was an unsuccessful realtor. She was out constantly showing property, and yet somehow managed to spend more money than she made.

The house then fell silent; nothing but the sound of forks clattering against tabletops and the shrieking of children. Sam's presence was starting to make Brittany even more uncomfortable. His arms were crossed over his built chest and he was staring at the ground.

"We really need this, Brittany. _I _need this." He stressed suddenly.

She resisted rolling her eyes, because, yes, she knew. She lived the past few years knowing.

Sam's parent's died four years ago in a car accident that left them dead at the scene. Sam was only a teenager at the time, and just figuring out college when the life altering crisis hit them. Brittany's devastated parent's took Sam and his little brother and sister in as their own. Stacey and Stevie have little to no memory of their parents, only being three at the time.

The smiling, cheerful and somewhat charming cousin had been replaced with a quiet, impatient and demanding version of him. And Brittany understood, she truly did. His parent's died and his siblings are to grow up with no parents. Brittany felt horrible even acknowledging it, but Sam was so _angry_ all the time. He would get mad at the littlest things. A bad report card, an unmade bed, missing curfew, drinking...he basically was a second father figure to her.

He scared her, made her feel incredibly self-conscious. She had to get used to being on her toes constantly at home, a place where she was supposed to feel free and careless.

But she allowed it to happen, considering how much he had to go through. She could make that sacrifice. It was in her character to place people before herself. He was family after all...

"Look, Brittany, I know you wanted to go back to college, but you have to understand that this is much more important." His voice was borderline desperate, and once again Brittany wasn't sure who he was trying to convince; her or himself. She had heard this speech a million times before. "You're the only person who can do this. The only person I trust. And this is the only way in. To actually live under the same roof as_ that man_..." He laughed shakily.

"I haven't gotten the job yet, so..." _So don't get your hopes up._

"There's a part of me that just knows you will. Watch." His large smile failed to reassure her.

It was then that Brittany realized it was now or never. Should she allow him to hold onto that false hope? Or should she just tell him the truth and get it over with. She knew what she had to do.

"Sam, I have to tell you something..." She started slowly. Her blood was suddenly pumping fast and hard in her ears and she felt faint. Oh God, he was going to be so mad. So disappointed. "The interview...I told you it went well, but it really didn't. I did really horrible. I'm so sorry!" She frantically cried out as his face crumbled.

"What do you mean it went horrible? You said-..."

Her hands rubbed against her exposed thighs. She was so nervous. "I fumbled with my words, I got things mixed up and jumbled as usual and..."

"You said you were confident and strong."

"I lied." He exhaled sharply and pinched the bridge of his nose. He indicated for her to explain further.

"Well, they asked me about my motives and I told them money, because I panicked. I didn't know how to answer that question, because of course they would kick me out if they really knew why I was there and Santana was staring at me like she could see right through me, I couldn't even form words- my hands were sweating so much and then I felt gross and oh, Sam I'm so freaking sorry!"

"Britt, slow down." He rushed to stop her rambling. She took a deep breath and trained her eyes at her feet, waiting for his reply. "You're stupid."

Her heart dropped to her stomach. She deflated. That was the last thing she ever wanted to hear, the last thing she needed at that moment.

"Ugh, this ruins everything!" He continued to roar. They paid no attention to Stevie and Stacey who gave them weary looks across the room. He turned to her again, his face bright red.

"Sam, maybe it would be better if you just dropped this whole plan-" Bad. Bad thing to say.

"Are you fucking kidding me?!" He screamed. She winced when he stepped forward, "Our lives are ruined because of that _fucking man_, and thanks to you, our last chance at hope has been shot! And you actually have the nerve to tell me to drop it? I-"

"Sammie..." A small voice broke his rant. He turned abruptly to see Stacey wiping her eyes, tears falling rapidly down her red cheeks. Brittany was about to approach her when Sam beat her to it.

"Come on, Stevie. Bed time." He called out roughly. He ignored Brittany as he crossed the hall and turned the corner.

Distraught, Brittany slumped against the back of the couch with a heavy sigh. Arguments like those were common in their household, but they were usually over trivial matters like feeding the kids or chores. Brittany knew that this time it would be awhile before Sam forgave and forgot.

A sense of hopelessness washed over her. Her eyes focused on a leg of the kitchen table. The kitchen table that just happened to be less than five feet away from her, inside a kitchen so tiny it could barely manage four adults at once. The living room was only slightly larger, and the master bedroom wasn't very big either.

Tiny. Everything was tiny.

Tiny, compared to the spacious, luxurious mansion she had the pleasure of being in.

Her mind sometimes wandered back to that day, walking through hallways that could seriously rival Hogwarts, mesmerized by large artwork by fancy European artists whose names she couldn't pronounce. She remembered the handlebars of every door she passed- all elegant, and golden. She must have passed dozens of rooms, and she briefly wondered what was behind every one of them.

But she specifically recalled dark raven hair, swung back over an exposed, tan shoulder. She remembered full lips that revealed a perfectly white smile. Brittany shivered when she recalled the intensity behind Santana's dark eyes. She had felt so exposed standing there in front of her. It pained her that she would never have the chance to meet that woman again.

She was about to retire to bed, curl up under her warm sheets, and hopefully avoid shedding tears, when she heard her phone vibrating in her purse. She lightly kicked off the couch and reached for her bag. It was almost seven o'clock. Supper time for most people, so she wondered who was calling.

The caller I.D. read _PRIVATE CALLER_.

"Hello?"

"_Hello, Brittany?_" A voice came over the receiver.

Her heart skipped a beat. She recognized that voice. Hard to forget, really, when it was such a distinct one. She remembered the woman's husky tone more than anything. Rough, but extremely soothing and a bit sensual.

"Is this...Santana?" Brittany asked. Her heart was racing because the only reason Santana would be calling is if...

"_Yes, this is her._" Santana confirmed, "I_ just wanted to call and personally inform you that you've got the job. Congratulations._"

She knew it was coming, but hearing it out loud sent Brittany into a state of excitement and disbelief. "What? You're kidding! Really? Oh my god."

She heard Santana giggling adorably on the other end of the line, "_Yes. You are expected to come by over the weekend. We'll have your bedroom and bathroom all set up. Also, there will be a brief tour of the mansion so you can be acquainted with everything._"

"I get my own bedroom?"

"_Yup. Shocking, huh? That's just how we roll here._" Brittany chuckled, giddily. "_But I'm going to warn you beforehand. This job isn't fun and games. We expect the best out of you considering how high our expectations are._"

She gulped and Santana picked up on it. "_Don't worry, Brittany. You're in good hands. Plus, if anybody gets out of line, just come to me and I'll straighten them out._" Brittany was completely smitten, if the blush on her cheeks was any indication. She was glad Santana couldn't see her at that moment.

"Thank you."

"_We'll talk more when you arrive. Have a good evening, Brittany._" Santana hung up without another word.

Brittany dropped the cell phone onto the couch with a disbelieving smile on her face. So many emotions were rushing through her thanks to the turn of events, she didn't know how to react properly. Ultimately, it was joy that won out, causing her to squeal and jump.

"Can't believe this..." She muttered under her breath, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Her eyes flickered towards the hallway where Sam was putting his siblings to sleep.

Just as quick as it came, the joy in her heart faded with a renewed sense of doom. Before, a part of her was okay with not getting hired at the mansion. It would have meant she didn't have to follow through with Sam's plan.

Sam's plan. The mere thought of it always managed to make her queasy and light-headed. So her best option was to shove it to the back of her head, forgetting it until the time came.

Now, though, she had no choice.

She clenched her hands, took a deep breath, and walked towards Sam's closed door.

Santana contemplated whether or not she should inform her father of the newly employed maids. He was, after all, the one who initiated the search for them. At the same time, though, Santana knew it was a mindless order; he could care less who got the job as long as his reputation was intact and the house was running smoothly.

Needless to say, Santana was feelings a bit...naughty today. Pestering her father at his office in the west wing of the mansion seemed rather appealing. It was the first time he was home in the afternoon that week, anyway.

"Hello, father." She smiled cheerfully and wickedly, entering his office without permission. In one hand, she had her files holding the applications. In her right hand, manipulative as she was, she held a plate of brownies fresh from the oven.

He grunted in an acknowledgement at her presence, too engrossed in paperwork to even look up.

She set the plate near his laptop, "Working on that Klippel-Trenaunay case?"

"Yes." He stated, "Did you finish the research I asked you to do on Jane Doe?"

Since Fall, Santana had been working as a part-time assistant for him at the hospital. As uninspiring as it sounded, she wanted a career in medicine similar to her father. Her interests, though, were based more in the psychiatric field. There was something about mental disorders that had always intrigued her which she attributed to the fact that her father was a brain surgeon; constantly wrapped up in the art of the brain.

"Actually, no. I haven't." She stated slowly, twirling her finger around the rim of an empty coffee mug. "I was too busy searching for suitable maids to replace the five you fired." His eyes came up to meet hers. It was clear he was less than impressed.

"And who told you it was your job to do that? I thought your aunt was in charge." His attention focused back on the paper before him, swiftly signing it at the bottom.

Her eyes never left his working pen, "She was too busy. I didn't mind." She dumped the folder of papers on his desk, "Those are the ones we hired."

She knew it was futile, but the frown that grew across his face was totally worth how pointless the visit was. "Santana, I could care less, as long as you managed to hire decent, hard working people."

"Even if they're barely out of their teens?" She coyly asked. The tip of her fingers drag against sleek, shiny wood as she rounded his desk. She plopped down before him in a seat. The entire time, Javier Lopez followed her with a cold gaze, the glasses he loosely wore almost tipping off his nose.

"And what, may I ask, possessed you to make that sort of decision?" Santana almost laughed at the disapproval in his voice.

She didn't know why, but she loved it when he was in a negative mood. The twisted mindset most likely started after her mother died of a brain tumor when Santana was ten. She half blamed him for the death, but she also knew there was nothing her father could have done. Plus, her father blamed himself entirely. It was his profession- to deal with and heal people with brain diseases and disorders. Having failed to save the love of his life messed him up in more ways than one. Santana guessed it was the reason why he buried himself in his workload- either to forget it ever happened, or to become a better surgeon.

And she despised him for it. He'd left her to fend for herself, to be raised by her grandma and aunt. Every daughter needed a papi in her life, and he had deprived her of one.

So she took refuge in pestering him while he worked.

"Don't worry, it's just one person out of five. The rest are between their late twenties and late forties. I chose wisely, Papi." She pushed the plate of brownies towards him, "Have some. Anyway, Brittany-that's the one turning 22, soon- Brittany is young, she's fit, and has a good head on her shoulders. You'll approve of her, I promise."

He eyed her warily. It was during these moments where her heart started beating rapidly, when she began pursing her lips, waiting for a response-some sort of acceptance.

Because deep down, behind the pestering and loathing, she just wanted her daddy to approve of her.

"That's fine." He said shortly. She took a deep sigh of relief, smiling brightly at him.

"Awesome. Then, I'm just going to head out. I've got to tell Aunt Izzie about this stuff."

"Take the brownies with you." He grunted, back to being immersed in his studies. She faltered and stepped back to eye him bleakly.

"You didn't eat any."

He waved a hand at her in dismissal, a gesture she had come to hate deeply. "I had lunch."

That was a lie. He didn't step one foot into the kitchen for the past few days, and he hated it when anybody entered his office so the chance of a maid fixing him a sandwich was out of question.

With one more disapproving look in his direction, she marched out of her father's office.

Her ecstatic mood from before had deflated, leaving her feeling empty inside. Her father was an expert in creating self-esteem problems for those around him.

There was an empty table in the room adjacent to her dad's office. She dumped the plate of brownies on top, hoping her little cousins or the maids cleaned it up. She leaned against the wall, staring hopelessly at the rug, contemplating when her daddy-issues would ever cease.

The playroom was located on the second floor of the east end. There were only four children that occupied the mansion. Puck had two nephews, 4 and 2 years of age, and a new born niece- all children of his older brother. His brother, Ricky, married six years ago and since moved out of the household. His wife, Amelia, still dropped their children off every morning before going to work. Ricky and Amelia were the more sophisticated members of the family compared to Puck, who was reckless and constantly involved in indecent acts. Ricky sought a higher education, fell in love, married and had kids. He was the ideal image of what a Lopez should be.

The fourth child was her cousin, Angel. She was the daughter of Aunt Izzie, a widow and sister to Santana's father. Izzie lived in the mansion permanently after her husband died in Iraq four years back. Angel was only 5 at the time, but the death left a big hole within everyone. Izzie took it well, focusing on giving her daughter everything, but she had her moments.

Currently, the mansion was home to eight people: Santana, her father, Puck and his parents, her grandma, as well as Izzie and Angel. The maid's, butlers, cooks, and some guards also resided in rooms here and there.

It was Santana's home and she was incredibly proud of it.

She made her way up to the playroom, where Puck was babysitting his nephews and niece. He could be the world's biggest jerk, but the guy actually cared for family when and where it counted. He adored those three 'munchkins' as he called them.

She entered with a smile, her hands automatically reached to tap Angel's head, who was busy measuring herself on the wall with a ruler, though to no avail, "Need help there, princess?"

"No, I can do it!" She argued before marking the wall with an awfully large marker. She stepped back and eyes bugged out in disbelief, "Dude! I grew five inches in two weeks, holy crap!"

"Okay, one," Santana grabbed the marker from her cousin's hand and looked at her with a stern expression, "Language. I know you pick up stuff from Puck and I since you always follow us, but I don't ever want to hear you say that again. Two, you were holding the ruler up at a bad angle. You're bound to get wrong measurements like that. Three," she bent down at gazed at her with narrowed eyes. Angel stared back just as challengingly, "You're always going to be short."

"Hey!" Angel puffed her brown cheeks, taking offense, "I hate you." The nine year-old grabbed her baseball cap from the ground and with a final glare at Santana, placed it on her head.

That girl and her baseball hats...she was the biggest tomboy of the century, rivaling Santana when she was her age. She had a sneaking suspicion that girl will have a particularly interesting life growing up...

"Hey," Puck brought her attention towards the middle of the room where he was seated with Maya, the baby of the family. "Did you talk to your dad?"

Santana let Maya grasp onto her index finger. Her pudgy fingers were so tiny compared to Santana's. "Yeah, he didn't say much. As usual."

"You mean he wasn't jumping up and down with joy? Color me surprised."

"I even made him brownies..." She mumbled. Her fingers traced the outline of Maya's ear absentmindedly, "Well, technically, Giorgio did, but still."

Giorgio was their head chef, and possibly the greatest cook ever. He dedicated over twelve hours a day in the kitchen, along with his workers, cooking up meals and gourmets for all occasions held in the mansion.

"I'm going to be shooting some hoops with Finn and the boys tomorrow, you in?" Puck balanced Maya on his knees, smiling widely at her when she looked on in confusion at the sudden change in position.

"Uh, no...I gotta help grandma with the maids. There's a lot to teach them, so..." Puck's eyes suddenly filled in understanding.

"You're all psyched for that blonde chick, aren't you?" He grinned wickedly. She wanted to slap him.

"I don't know what you're talking about. It's a huge task giving a tour around this place and grandma is an old little woman who is too frail and..." She trailed off with a wave of her hand, not being able to continue her half-assed excuse.

"Oh, please. There's a million people here who could help. Just admit it. I'm not the only one wanting to get in her pants."

Her arm came over Puck's shoulder and she laid a good smack on his bald head. "Shut the fuck up. That is not what this is about. And these walls have ears so don't ever say that again."

He was still laughing his ass off uncontrollably so he placed Maya on her tummy. Santana just rolled her eyes and sat back.

Puck was the only one who knew about her sexuality. She came out to him when she turned 20, wanting to free the burden on her chest. He, of course, accepted it, after all he did have his suspicions.

Her family wasn't super conservative, but they were very traditional. Coming out to her family and friends would take everyone off guard but Santana hardly believed she'd be kicked out or hated upon. Her father was the only person she was afraid of telling, since his loyalties only lay his job and reputation. So she stayed silent. At least until the right moment.

"I'm not interested in her like that, idiot." She said once more. "She's a fucking maid..."

"Mmm, just imagine those long legs in one of those uniforms..." He added dreamily.

"Shut up!" She threw a pillow at him, "Or I'll steal Maya and tell your brother you lost her."

He snorted, "He's used to it."

She groaned and stood up. With a sneer in his direction she stalked out of the room.

Puck gazed up at the clock, watching the seconds pass by, then...

"She's mine, okay?" Santana stormed back in, "Let me just have this, just this one time, Puck. You can get all the _chicks_ you want, but leave her to me."

"Why, Santana Lopez, this is incredibly unprofessional of you." He teased.

"I haven't had an inkling of romance in my life since sophomore year of college and that was with a guy. Look," she walked up closer, a bit of desperation in her eyes, "if she turns out straight, fine. Have her all you want. But let me have a go just once. I'm going to probably be in the closet all my life."

"Well try and look harder for someone! What about the hospital?"

She scoffed, "Please, I'm with my dad constantly, he'd know something is up." She toed the carped for a second, "Plus I have literally no game when it comes to girls. I'd rather pretend they don't exist."

He rolled his eyes at her admission, though finding her struggles a bit adorable. "So you'd thought it would be a good idea to bring her to this shit place, where your father lives, as well as my dad, my mom, our grandma, Iz-"

"I'll make her my personal maid." She blurted. The idea just popped into her head and she loved it. "That way she has no ways of escaping me." She grinned in victory at her genius plan.

"And if she's a hundred percent straight?" He leaned back on his hands and smirked at her.

"Does knowing that some girls are gay stop you from hitting on them?"

"No."

"I rest my case."

Puck shifted in his position and scrunched his face in ponder, "So let me get this straight. This whole 'I want a young maid' act was just a ploy for you to find a suitable chick to screw."

"You make me sound like a tool."

Puck was silent for a moment. There was something mischievous in his eyes. Then, he started clapping, "I've raised you so well."

"Oh, fuck off."


End file.
